Telephus
by LysseC
Summary: Hashirama has always been the one to wound and the one to heal him, and Madara can't help but get caught in the spell. HashiMada, Madara-centric.


**Telephus**

_(Telephus: mythological character who is said to have been wounded by Achilles's spear and cured by the rust of that same spear. Jean Starobinski uses him as paradigm of the passive role in sado-masochistic relationships, the part who gets wounded and then healed.)_

The days after he implants Hashirama's flesh into his open wounds are painful and delirious, with him drifting in and out of conscience on the throbbing waves of agony erupting from his chest and spreading to his limbs. If feels like his entire being is on fire and freezing at the same time, as if something is eating him up from the insides, like a corrosive acid spreading through his veins.

Madara screams and thrashes on the floor of the cave he has found refuge in. He curses the pain, his miserable fate, his solitude, his father and mother that brought him into this painful existence, his three brothers that died too young and too far for him to come save them, the Senjus that decimated his family, Tobirama who killed Izuna, Izuna who let himself get killed, the Clan that deserted him, the people of Konoha that didn't trust him, and Hashirama.

Hashirama who was stronger than him, Hashirama who made him dream of a brighter future, Hashirama who threw it all away the moment he revealed himself to be a Senju, Hashirama who didn't give up his naive ideals and dragged him back for a while, Hashirama who showed how fake everything was once more by accepting the title Hokage on his brother's insistence. Hashirama, who said that he loved him, and then stabbed him in the back to defend _his _village. Hashirama, whose flesh right now is the only thing keeping Madara alive.

Then, as sudden as it began, the scorching pain ceases. Madara rests on the cave floor, his fatigued breath the only noise that breaks the ominous silence of his refuge. Madara closes his eyes and falls asleep.

When he comes back to his senses -how much time has passed? It doesn't matter, he has all the time he needs now-, he drags himself out to wash himself in a small torrent nearby. It's only then, once the water has cleansed him from all the grit, sweat, dirt, blood and other unknown body fluids that he _sees _it.

Hashirama's face is sticking out of his chest, right above his heart, where the scar of the mortal wound should be.

The irony of it is just too much, and Madara feels the last degrees of control leaving him. He lets himself fall in the water on his hands and knees, and laughs, and cries, and talks to the face.

"How? How is it that you dominate me so? You're the hand that wounds, and the hand that heals. You overcome me in battle, and then help me get up again. You take everything away from me, and then give me a reason to live. You make me dream and then destroy everything. You kill me, then save my life. And I am powerless to stop this. I try leaving you behind, but you follow every step I make. And you know, you _know_ it, goddamnit, how much I hate being followed. Stupid Senju. You fucking idealistic idiot. Why don't you leave me alone? Why don't you just go away?"

He tries to regain his sanity by thinking about his plans. He knows what he has to do. The Rinnegan, the Juubi. Infinite Tsukuyomi.

"But who am I fooling? You'll be there too. Once I let myself be taken into the illusion... you'll be there, with your stupid smile and your goddamn village. We will be there, the three of us. Me, Izuna, and _you_."

The hysteric laugh has died down, and Madara's hand comes to cover his mouth, in a desperate attempt to suffocate his sobs.

"Why can't I get rid of you? Why? Is that love? Is that need?"

The moment he says it, he knows it to be true. Hashirama will always be a part of him, his destiny, his fated rival and love.

_But it doesn't change anything_, Madara swears to himself as he gets up from the pool of water. _I'll learn to piss with someone watching me. I'll continue on my path. I'll fight you again maybe, and I 'll love you. I'll suffer everytime I see your face, hear your name. But I'll go on. And if I find you at the end of the path, then so be it. I'll let you wound me and heal me. But on _my_ conditions, this time._

**A/N: I don't know if anything of this makes any sense at all. It did in my mind.**

**I was reading Starobinski's delirium about Telephus, and I couldn't help but think of those two.**


End file.
